


Stolen From The Stars

by WeWillSpockYou



Category: Chris Pine - Fandom, Karl Urban - Fandom, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Campfire, M/M, Night Under The Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:47:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeWillSpockYou/pseuds/WeWillSpockYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim dreams a little dream while Eomer sketches him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoWashTheLights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoWashTheLights/gifts).



My heart is quickly losing his combat against slumber. I can see his near-cobalt eyes dip slowly shut and then flutter back open. I long to lay with him, my form curled around his, but for the moment I will remain where I am, content to sketch his somnolent form.  Again and again he fights the battle against sleep, only to have his pale eyelids win the war. Jim breathes out a long sigh, causing the fire to dance in a different direction for a moment. He sleeps.

It has been a protracted day for us both. My aim on this mission was to cultivate Jim’s tracking skills. I spent the day hiding in the well-known woods of Rohan, whist Jim attempted to track my movements. His ventures were not always successful; however his skills are greatly improved.

We made camp one quarter of a mile from a fast running stream. Jim fished for our evening meal, while I gathered wood for our fire and large rocks for the fire pit. Jim, so drained from his exertions this day collapsed onto our bedroll once his meal was consumed, leaving me sitting alone on the opposite side of the fire.

I had thoughts of joining him, but the pull of Jim’s beauty urges me to capture his form. It has been an age since I have taken pause to sit and sketch. My skills are woefully inadequate to capture the light that is my Jim. Mere lines cannot possibly express all that I see within him. His own inner glow is pure radiance in comparison to the beauty of the flame. I take up my charcoal and commit the first line to parchment.

He is lying on his stomach, while his strong but weary arms pillow his dreaming head. His silky blonde hair is a mass of fire-warmed color. The orange flame flickering in the spun gold of his hair has made the color seem molten, as if his hair were fueled by the conflagration that burns within him. Shadows dance across his face when a mild zephyr pushes the flames aside. I am used to seeing the occasional shadow mar his perfection. He misses his comrades, as I would miss mine should our positions become reversed. My mind wonders daily if I could ever be enough to keep him contented.

His face is softened in sleep, my Jim, who wears his every emotion like armor. I have never known one so quick with a smile or so willing to show his displeasure. In sleep, Jim is relaxed and restful, able at last to simply be. I capture his slacked jaw and the silhouette of his face as his left eye is buried in the curve of his arm.

His hair seems to burn in shades of orange and pink. The colors darken then lighten as the fire shifts and grows.  My fingertips itch to run through the now warmed, silken strands. His golden locks have grown longer in the months he has spent in Edoras. It now curls gently along the thin, graceful column of his neck.

Jim’s broad shoulders roll as his sleeping form adjusts itself into deeper comfort. I can see the power coiled within him. He has a strength and bearing that rivals my own. Had he been born in Middle Earth, he would have been a ruler of great renown. Poets will write of his daring, troubadours would sing of his bravery, lovers would play-out our tale for all eternity.

My charcoal moves down the lines and planes of his right side as my hands have done on so many occasions. Jim’s deep, throaty voice will moan my name, demanding more of my touch but now he is still, his body recuperating from the challenges of the day. I am torn between letting him have his rest and wanting to wrest every last drop of pleasure from his body.

The flames flicker over the bare skin of Jim’s torso. It is as if the fire is touching him, memorizing him as I do on a daily basis. The dancing flames lick their way down his soft skin, stopping to plant kiss after scorching kiss as it passes over him. I cannot help but be jealous of the intimacy the flames have created between it and my heart. I long to walk my battle-scarred hands over his warm flesh. I wish to tease him back to wakefulness and spent hours worshiping his form. My charcoal is a poor substitute as it marks Jim’s planes and curves.

I would save this moment for eternity. Were I a better artist, I would capture the details of his chiseled features marking details my hands know by heart. I shall always recall the warmth of his skin, the fiery glow of love in his eyes that I am hopeless to capture in only two mere demensions.

Jim’s plush lips quirk into a smile. Of what is he dreaming? Does he reunite with his confederates to once again sail the stars? Or does he somehow feel me marking him, securing his soul with my lines and curves? I would see Jim smile like this for as long as I am able to draw breath.

The green spun wool blanket I brought with us on this trip is pooled low on Jim’s magnificent hips and I can see the curve of his right buttock just beneath the edge of the cover. It is Jim’s most sensitive and delicious spot. I could spend hours devouring the soft, salty skin covering his slender hips. My cock awakens in my breeches as I recall the way he writhes and clings to me when I lick that sensitive skin.

His scarred back is bathed in shadow. I can feel my fingertips tingle in memory of the marks that mar my heart’s skin. He was but a boy when the blows that scarred him were delivered. I would gladly run his tormentor through with my sword if I thought it would bring Jim peace. “You bring me peace every waking moment of my life, Eomer.” He tells me repeatedly and I believe him. I believe in him.

His legs kick backward in his sleep, searching for me. Jim will wake soon and wonder why I am not wrapped around him, our bodies twined together. What shall I tell him, that I’ve become a besotted, whimsical fool? His sweet ass scoots backward, seeking my warmth. My own lips curl into a smile at Jim’s unconscious need of me. No one has ever needed me as much as my heart. No one else ever will, I fear.

The logs shift and fall, sending a cascade of dragon’s breath skyward. High billowing flames erupt, sending a shower of sparks and dying embers aloft to be carried on the breeze. My childhood was filled with stories of Smaug The Terrible. It was said the dragon came for naughty children in the night. Stories of the long-dead dragon terrified me as a youth, but that fear is nothing compared to what I feel at the thought of losing my golden boy; my Jim.

Jim has told me of how hot and bright the stars burn, how at the end of their fiery lives they wink out and turn to ash. I fear in my own heart that is what is to become of me and my Jim. He is star-born and into the stars he must one day return. A drop of moisture puddles on my completed sketch. I look through the treetop canopy to the sky and see cold ruthless stars winking back at me. They know Jim belongs to them and my time with him is finite.

I will not show Jim my finished sketch. I will save it for the long, cold nights when my bed is empty, my heart broken and I’ll think back on this night. It is the night I stole him from the stars.

A hint of blue draws my attention from the roaring campfire. His eyes wonder why I am so far away, why we are not joined as one, my heart beating in time with his. Enough of this maudlin fancy, I shall go join Jim, my heart, my soul, my one true love.

 

[](http://postimage.org/)   
[](http://postimage.org/)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe this pretty little Tribble to the lovely GoWashTheLights. We were talking about Jim and Eomer the other day and she asked me if I thought either one of them could draw. It made the most sense to me that of the two of them, Jim would be the artist, so my answer was Eomer. I could see him in my mind sitting beneath a tall tree sketching the world around him after he lost his parents. Perhaps it was the one way he could control the world in which he found himself. 
> 
> A picture quickly formed in my mind of a sleeping Jim and Eomer sitting across the campfire from him drawing him in secret. This story is so bittersweet for me. As I was writing Middle Earth: The Final Frontier, I wrote Eomer as living for the moment, with both of them caught up in halcyon days as it were. Jim knew the Enterprise and her crew would continue to search for him, but as the days stretched into months and Jim fell more and more in love with his warrior, the Enterprise faded into a distant, happy memory. The idea that Eomer knew his time with Jim was limited makes him that much more precious to me and of course breaks my heart all over again. 
> 
> I owe my undying love to GoWashTheLights for drawing what Eomer drew. I had tears in my eyes when I saw this sweet picture of our Jim. We both agree Jim is dreaming of Eomer! 
> 
> If you have not read Middle Earth: The Final Frontier, I am including the link for you here. [Middle Earth: The Final Frontier](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1323772/chapters/2755348)


	2. Jim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim wakes up and sees Eomer sketching.

The smell of damp earth and wood smoke welcomed me back to wakefulness. I could feel the heat from the fire, warm against my face and bare chest. What I couldn’t feel was Eomer. Where was my giant horse lord and what was keeping him from my side? I cracked one eye open, careful to do it slowly, so as not to show Eomer I’m awake.

From my prone position on the ground, my view of Eomer is limited. The campfire consumes my field of vision, but I can see him through the flames. I am transfixed by the image of him seemingly surrounded by fire. His image shifts and stirs as waves of heat move outward from the conflagration making him seem wavy and dreamlike; almost as if he wasn’t real.

He looks larger-than-life. My golden, gruff warrior with the heart of a lion. Every citizen of Edoras respects the Third Marshal and I would go so far as to say some even fear his fierce temper and military bearing. That suits me perfectly, it means no one else knows him the way I do.

Eomer is brilliant. He is military minded to his very core, always seeking to keep the people of Rohan safe. He would have made one hell of a starship captain. Oh, the debates we would’ve had back at the Academy, followed by hot fiery sex to settle the terms of mock engagements once and for all.

He is sitting with his strong back in broad shoulders propped against a soaring cedar. His face is furrowed in concentration; his eyes narrowed in laser-sharp focus. His right knee is bent while his left leg is straight out flat against the ground, foot near the fire, thank Christ. He has the coldest feet of any lover I have ever known.A shudder rips through my fire-warmed body. I would never admit this to him, but I secretly love when he warms his icy feet against my legs. It makes me feel like I am caring for him as he so often cares for me.

My life has changed completely in the last six months and I wouldn’t have survived one day without him here in this strange new world. That’s harder for me to admit than finding Eomer’s icy feet sexy. Before this trip into the woods, I did not have the tools to survive more than an hour on my own. I can admit this now under the cover of darkness, but in the harsh light of day it was a different matter.

If I’m being honest with myself, I was a dick about learning from my eager lover. It was not my proudest moment, I was pissed that I had been through Starfleet Academy in three years and had been the youngest starship captain in the history of the ‘Fleet, but couldn’t start a fire without a phaser. It hurt my damned pride and in turn I lashed out harshly at the man I love more than my own life. It hadn’t occurred to me the amount of worry Eomer had taken on over me. How much he must’ve worried that I wouldn’t have been able to survive had I been lost or taken from him. In my world I am a competent and strong man with hundreds of men and women counting on me for their survival, but here in Middle Earth I am not equipped to survive. Even the youngest children know how to start a fire and gather wood.

Thanks to my unwavering love and devotion to Eomer, I managed to swallow my pride, not to mention my rotten attitude and learn how to start a fire, how to fish, hunt and track game. I don’t have Eomer’s skill level but he is satisfied with my progress.

I was ridiculously pleased with myself, but Eomer thought I was being overconfident. Which if I think about it, means he doesn’t know me very well. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at my own joke. For the first time in the six months that I’ve been here I feel like we are an equal team; but I am pulling my weight in our relationship. I’m not sure if I have the words to explain why this is so important to me, but I’ll try. Most of my life I’ve been a taker. It’s a completely different thing for me not only to give, but to give openly and willingly. I would lay down my life for Eomer.

I cracked my eyes open a bit more to see Eomer better. His focus is still on his right knee, on the secret sketch he is working on, I secretly wish in my heart it were me he was sketching. I discovered my brave warrior’s secret talent a few months back while I was snooping through his things. So shoot me, I’m a shitty boyfriend. I had banged up my knee pretty badly in a training exercise and Eomer insisted I stay in bed to heal which I thought was a fantastic idea, well fantastic until he got up to go train with the Rohirrim, leaving me alone to rest. I’ve never rested a day in my life and didn’t intend to start. My knee had other ideas, however, when I got out of bed and fell flat on my face. Leaving the room wasn’t an option but searching through Eomer’s things was. I admit it was a passive-aggressive, dick move, but I couldn’t find the give a damn to care muchuntil I came across a rolled leather pouch buried deep in the back of a drawer. I unrolled the leather to find charcoal sketches inside. Most of the sketches were of Firefoot and my meadow; the meadow where Eomer first found me after my accident in the wormhole brought me to Middle Earth.

I’ve never felt such a surge of grief as I did when I realized that if Eomer had wanted to share his gift with me he would have. I scanned each of the sketches one last time, committing them to memory. My heart warming at this bit of intimate knowledge about my gruff love, before I rolled them back up and returned them to where I had found them.

I could tell by his posture and the movement of his eyes once I studied him better, that he was sketching me. I wondered if I looked as incandescent through the flames as he did through my eyes. I was dying to see what the sketch looked like, how he saw me through his eyes, but what I wanted more was his hands lips and clever mouth on my body. I opened my eyes a bit more and waited for him to notice I was awake. It didn’t take long, moments later his eyes met and held mine, the look in them softening from fierce concentration into pure love.

“Are you missing me, my heart?” His gruff voice said above the roar of the fire.

I nodded and lifted up the blanket, a silent invitation for him to join me.

 

Thank you so much for reading this story. I’ve stopped writing McKirk fanfiction to focus on writing original MM fiction under the pen name Pandora Pine. If you’re interested in my books, you can check them out here: http://www.amazon.com/Pandora-Pine/e/B013BSSBX0/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1465949272&sr=8-2-ent

[](http://postimage.org/)   
[](http://postimage.org/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot thank GoWashTheLights for this amazing drawing of Eomer drawing Jim. He is so buff and gorgeous, Jim is one lucky man!!
> 
> Those of you who read Middle Earth:The Final Frontier know how much I love these two together. When Eomer starts talking, he has my undivided attention. He wanted a second chapter from Jim's POV, so here it is. You're going to see a third chapter of this story at some point. Jim has a trick up his sleeve that he needs to share.


End file.
